


a stroke of luck

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5051350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac is grounded, but that doesn't really stop Combeferre from keeping him company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a stroke of luck

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anon prompt that I got on my [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/).

Courfeyrac turned down his music, frowning into the darkness of his room. He was pretty sure that he’d heard something, maybe rain, maybe he should be checking if the windows were all closed, then there was another patter. But just one. Something had definitely hit the window behind him.

He turned off the music entirely and switched on his bedside lamp. So he could actually see the person who was coming to murder him. He opened the window and peered outside into the dark backyard. There was someone standing down there. Someone who was wearing glasses and a suit and really shiny shoes. He awkwardly waved up at Courfeyrac.

“Combeferre?” Courfeyrac asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to... well, Enjolras said you were grounded.”

“And you wanted to come by to make sure that I’m actually still in here, wasting away without my laptop and my phone? Because I am and it sucks. My dad even changed the wifi password, can you believe the dedication? They’re really doing their best to make me feel absolutely miserable.”

“I’m sorry,” Combeferre said and he sounded like he really meant it, even though it really wasn’t his fault.

“You didn’t ask me to go around punching obnoxious asshats.”

“Yes, but it was me he was trying to provoke.”

“Well, it’s not your fault that you’re smarter than me either.”

Combeferre laughed. “But you’re okay? Except for your, um, imprisonment?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Grounded for two weeks, no laptop and no phone for the weekend. They went easy on me, I guess. I mean, I explained the whole thing to them and they agreed that I had no other choice but to defend your honor. No, they didn’t, but I think they understood where I was coming from.” Courfeyrac tilted his head. “Why aren’t you at the fundraiser?”

“Because your entire family is at the fundraiser, so I figured you’d be here on your own.”

Courfeyrac grinned broadly. “If I wasn’t grounded, I’d totally come down there and kiss you right now.” He bit his lip. He needed to stop saying stuff like that because at some point Combeferre would figure out that he was serious about it and Courfeyrac wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to know what would happen next. “Anyway, do you want to come up? I wouldn’t be breaking any rules. I’m just not allowed to go anywhere, you know?”

“I see,” Combeferre said. He knew what to do, he’d done it a billion times before.

Courfeyrac’s room didn’t just have the one window, it also had a door to a small balcony at the side of the house and next to it was a trellis and Combeferre knew exactly how to get up to that balcony without destroying Courfeyrac’s mom’s favorite roses. Recently, Combeferre had used the actual front door a lot, mainly when Courfeyrac’s parents had still been at work, but this had been the go-to method over the summer, especially when it had already been late.

“You know,” Courfeyrac said as Combeferre climbed onto the balcony, “this looks so much cooler when you’re wearing a suit.” He grabbed Combeferre by his tie and pulled him inside. “It’s like you’re a really nerdy James Bond.”

“Thanks,” Combeferre muttered, “I guess.”

“Hey, James Bond always gets lucky, wherever he climbs,” Courfeyrac mumbled. He didn’t even know what he was saying because Combeferre was in his room, in a suit, and the only thing Courfeyrac’s brain was currently occupied with was the attempt to figure out if he’d rather look at Combeferre with the suit on or if he should try to get if off as quickly as possible. Obviously he had to go for option number one, because they hadn’t yet reached a point in their relationship where Courfeyrac could assist Combeferre in removing his clothes.

There were basically stuck at the point where Courfeyrac kept joking about them kissing. All the time. And where he stared at Combeferre and cried about how beautiful he looked in a suit. The crying happened on the inside, obviously.

The autumn fundraiser, organized by Enjolras’ mother and her housewife-party-committee that actually had a much more official-sounding name, was one of Courfeyrac’s favorite events. Well, it had become Courfeyrac’s favorite event two years ago when he’d realized that Combeferre looked really hot in a suit.

“I was going to sneak you a bunch of appetizers, but I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself.”

“Sounds reasonable, Mr. Bond.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes, took off his shoes and flopped down on Courfeyrac’s bed, pulling off his tie with a sigh. Courfeyrac was a little sad to see it go, but he also liked the way it was now flung over the headboard of his bed.

Courfeyrac joined Combeferre, trying to keep a bit of a distance, but wasn’t too bothered about his elbow brushing Combeferre’s arm. He wasn’t sure if he was being as subtle as he thought he was being. Subtlety had never actually been his strong suit. “So, how was the fundraiser?”

“The food was pretty good, there was a chocolate fountain, too,” Combeferre said. He sat up and pulled off his jacket. “My shoes were incredibly uncomfortable. Marius poured water all over his pants, but I saw him dancing with Cosette when I left, so I suppose it wasn’t that disastrous.”

“Adorable,” Courfeyrac said. He gave Combeferre a nudge. “Who’d you dance with?”

“I didn’t dance,” Combeferre muttered.

“That’s too bad, since you look so dashing and all. Although I wouldn’t have been there to see you stumble over your own feet, so maybe I’m not actually that disappointed.”

“Lovely as always, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, but you really need to work on your dancing skills for prom.”

“Who says I’m going to prom?”

“Excuse me, you have to, we’ve been waiting for prom for nearly eighteen years.”

“I’m pretty sure baby Courfeyrac didn’t know what prom even is,” Combeferre said dryly. “Anyway, leave me out of this.”

“But you look so nice in a suit. And your admirers will be so disappointed if you don’t go.”

“My _invisible_ admirers?”

“Oh, come on, you know you’re a hottie.”

Combeferre didn’t reply, he only huffed, and Courfeyrac was pretty sure that he was flustered. It was also one of his favorite things. And it was true, Combeferre was an utterly beautiful human being and Courfeyrac might have not noticed that until recently, but the low-key crush he’d always had on Combeferre and his adorable nerdiness had just become a billion times worse then.

“Well, if you change your mind and can’t find a date,” Courfeyrac elbowed him in the ribs, “you know where to find me.”

“Right,” Combeferre said and Courfeyrac only barely refrained from telling him that he was, in fact, a thousand percent serious and that nothing would make him happier than going to prom with Combeferre.

They sat in silence for a moment, then Courfeyrac cleared his throat. “I’d ask if you want to watch a movie, but I don’t know where my parents are hiding my laptop and they also stole the power chord for the TV, so I guess we just have to sit here.”

“I don’t mind sitting here,” Combeferre said.

“We can listen to music, I still have my ipod.”

“Courf, seriously, I didn’t come by so you could entertain me, I just wanted to see how you were doing, because nobody had heard from you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I tried to negotiate a phone call, but...” Courfeyrac shrugged. “It was nice of you to come over, though.”

“Sure,” Combeferre said. “Enjolras told me to say hi, by the way.”

“I bet he wasn’t too happy when you left early.”

“Oh, he said he was going to fake some sort of mysterious illness,” Combeferre said lightly.

Courfeyrac hummed. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit sad that I missed out on the chocolate fountain, you know how much I love chocolate fountains.”

“We could get one for your birthday party.”

“That’s an excellent idea. A wild party at the lake house. With a chocolate fountain.”

“Yes,” Combeferre said and laughed, “what could possibly go wrong?”

“We’ll have a private chocolate fountain party,” Courfeyrac said. Just him and Combeferre. He coughed. “Anyway, what are you gonna do without me at school? I’m sure the absence of my sparkly personality will leave quite the hole in your lives.”

Combeferre sat up straight at that. “Wait, what...?”

“Enjolras didn’t tell you that I also got suspended,” Courfeyrac said.

“Suspended,” Combeferre echoed. “Well, I suppose that’s what happens when you punch someone in the hallway.”

“Yep,” Courfeyrac said, nodding slowly.

Combeferre sighed. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have–”

“’Ferre, seriously, I know just as well as you do that I’m, what did my parents say, yeah, I’m responsible for my own actions.”

“But I should have said something,” Combeferre mumbled. “Or maybe I should have dragged you away.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that would have worked so well,” Courfeyrac said. “Seriously, though,” he patted Combeferre’s thigh, “don’t beat yourself up about this.” He laughed. “See what I did there?”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Courfeyrac said and stuck out his tongue at him. Combeferre was the master of ridiculous puns, so he really had no business judging Courfeyrac’s terrible puns, because the ones he came up with were usually at least twice as bad. “Hey,” Courfeyrac said after a moment, “you haven’t told me about all the juicy gossip yet.”

“There’s no gossip.”

“Of course there is gossip,” Courfeyrac said, “come on, I know you must have heard _something_.”

So Combeferre, grudgingly, told him about the whispers he’d overheard, about the waiters that had been making out in a deserted hallway, about the mayor’s drunk wife, about the affair Combeferre’s neighbor was having with the pool boy. It was all very scandalous, but Courfeyrac was only listening with half an ear, because he’d noticed that his hand was on the duvet, and so was Combeferre’s and they were basically just an inch away from each other. Just an inch. If Courfeyrac moved his hand a little closer, they’d be touching.

Courfeyrac didn’t think so much about the heart attack he was going to suffer if he did, he was more concerned with how Combeferre would react. He could always play it off as an accident. It was a viable option. Maybe he should just do it.

Or maybe he shouldn’t, because the obnoxious flirting was one thing, but Combeferre obviously wasn’t taking it very seriously, and if he did this, Combeferre would probably realize that Courfeyrac wasn’t joking at all, because Combeferre was smart and while Courfeyrac was a pretty good actor, he wasn’t when it came to this massive crush of his – the flirting, it just sort of slipped out, it kept happening and there was nothing Courfeyrac could do about it. Long story short, if he fucked this up, Combeferre would quite possibly never speak to him again.

Except that Combeferre was the loveliest person on the planet and he wouldn’t just stop talking to him. But things might be awkward. Really awkward. Courfeyrac wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

He moved his pinky finger. Just a teensy little bit. So far so good.

Combeferre was still talking, god, he was so good at talking, and his voice sounded so nice. Sometimes Courfeyrac wanted to ask him to read to him, but he had a feeling that that might be a little too weird.

Courfeyrac moved his fingers again, all of them this time, and now Combeferre wasn’t talking anymore. But he hadn’t pulled away his hand either. And Courfeyrac had no idea what to do next, because quite frankly he hadn’t expected that Combeferre would leave his hand exactly where it was.

“That’s...” Combeferre cleared his throat. “You’re...” Interesting. A speechless Combeferre. That was quite the sight to behold.

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac said. And he did get a confused sort of vibe from Combeferre, but it wasn’t sheer terror and he hadn’t run away screaming. Yet. Courfeyrac curled his fingers around Combeferre’s and he was really holding his hand now and it felt nice, really nice. He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said again.

“Okay,” Combeferre said, thumb brushing over the back of Courfeyrac’s hand.

Right, maybe now would be a good time to freak out, because he was _holding Combeferre’s hand_ and Combeferre _didn’t mind_ and maybe now would also be a good time for Courfeyrac to tell him that he wanted to kiss him a lot and that he also wouldn’t mind going to prom with him. Like, unofficially at least.

“You were, um, telling me about...” Courfeyrac trailed off. He couldn’t remember. Another deep breath. “Combeferre...”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Courfeyrac said.

Combeferre laughed lowly and squeezed his hand. Yep, that was definitely it, Courfeyrac couldn’t deal with this. He’d thought about this so much, but it had been in a _never gonna happen_ way, and now that it had happened he was a bit overwhelmed. A bit.

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre whispered, “you can let go if you want.”

“But I don’t want to let go,” Courfeyrac said, maybe a little too loudly.

“Okay, then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I always thought I was good at this, but you,” he poked at Combeferre with his free hand, “you’re making me not good at this.”

“You’re doing fine,” Combeferre said, with that soothing tone of his. Courfeyrac wanted to kiss him so much.

“Okay,” Courfeyrac said.

So they just sat there in silence, but it was a good kind of silence, holding hands, and Combeferre had been right, he was doing fine. And Combeferre’s thumb was still stroking across Courfeyrac’s skin and he felt really warm and happy and he wasn’t ever going to let go.

“So, earlier,” Combeferre said after a while, “when you said you’d come down to kiss me...”

“Well, I would have done it if I wasn’t super grounded.”

“But now I’m up here.”

“That you are.” Courfeyrac looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me to kiss you now?”

“You’re the expert,” Combeferre said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But, just so you know, I really wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Well, if Courfeyrac had been waiting for an invitation that was certainly it. He leaned in, very slowly. He’d done this before, he knew how it worked, technically. Although he’d never kissed a boy, and maybe kissing boys was different. He’d always wanted to, for years now, but he was so glad that Combeferre had ended up being the first one through some stroke of luck.

And Courfeyrac wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but Combeferre was really good at this. Obviously Combeferre had kissed other people before, on occasion, Courfeyrac knew that, so why was he surprised, why was he even still thinking about anything? He twined his fingers into Combeferre’s hair and Combeferre made this _noise_ and this was so much better than being drunk and playing seven minutes in heaven at a party and making out with, well, just some random person.

Combeferre was the only one he’d ever kiss for the rest of his life. Seriously.

“Oh, really?” Combeferre mumbled against his lips.

Okay, so apparently he’d said that out loud. Which wasn’t embarrassing at all. “Shut up,” Courfeyrac said and made sure that Combeferre didn’t get the chance to say another word for a very long time.


End file.
